


P.S, I Love You

by ofMenandStags



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Hannibal, Community: hannibalkink, Creeper Hannibal, Food is People, M/M, Top Hannibal, Top Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofMenandStags/pseuds/ofMenandStags
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ripper has begun courting Will through murder. At first it was just odd, but now it's getting ridiculous. Hannibal comforts Will and eases his fears. </p><p>Cracky fic, sex at the end. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	P.S, I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Written for the following prompt: http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/2676.html?thread=5187956#cmt5187956
> 
> The Ripper begins to court Will, declaring his love in very unusual ways. Will is not pleased, the FBI agents on the other hand don't known if they should be terrified or amused. Jack wonders when did his life became this.

# P.S, I Love You

**Part 1**

**The Way To A Man’s Heart, Is Through His Stomach Meat  
**

 

Hannibal hummed to himself as he carefully coiled the slips of meat, pinching the bottoms delicately, as he sewed them up, before mounting the buds upon stems of metal. He was careful with his work, after all, this was a gift.

So, meticulous planning had been in order to ensure the blood was kept to a minimum, and that each piece was done with perfection, patted dry of the oozing red, so that the crisp white parchment he’d chosen for his letter would not be tarnished.

When all had been set up, he stepped back to admire his work. He felt positively proud, surely Will would be moved by his beautiful, well thought out design. What would he think, when he saw this crime scene in the morning? Would he wonder about the motivation, or would he understand the gift right away?

With a smile to himself, approving his work, he slipped out of the field and into the creeping darkness.

All he had to do now, was wait for his gift to be delivered.

/.\

When they arrived at the crime scene, Will hadn’t know what to expect. Of course, he never did. Every one was different, every one gruesomely horrific in it’s own little way. This was like that, only, at the same time, it wasn’t, it was just so much worse.

It had been three years since the Chesapeake Ripper had killed, so that was the first surprise Will experienced, the second was the severely personal nature of the crime scene that greeted him as he stepped out of his car, walking towards the cluster of FBI agents.

It was a bright early morning. They we’re north of Baltimore, in a little place called Hunt Valley, in the middle of a field, alive with washes of a final, late harvest. The morning sun was just creeping awake, spilling open across the sky in grand gold and red hues. Autumn leaves rustled on long, mud brown branches that crawled up into the sky, and a warbler twittered somewhere off in the distance. The long golden stalks of wheat bent under his hands as he walked through the field, like the blonde hair of a dogs fur beneath his fingers. 

When he came upon the scene, he could smell the blood in the air, the metallic, salty scent invading his nose, followed closely by the cloying sweetness of an open corpse and the heavy smell of the wheat, gleaming with large mildew droplets. 

“He tied the hands with tendons.” Zeller observed, leaning in to snap a photo. Before Will sat the naked body of a man, that much was obvious, perched upon an old wooden chair, his hands indeed bound together with a string of bloody flesh. His stomach was stripped away and in his hands he clutched a bouquet of roses, a little letter tucked in with them.

Will leaned down to inspect it, carefully removing the stark white paper from cold dead hands. He pushed on his glasses and flipped the heavy parchment open, revealing beautiful curling letters, printed with such care and precision they seemed inhuman.

“For Will Graham….” He trailed off, looking at the body as his hand fell to his side, his lips quirked in a pained grimace, “...With love, The Chesapeake Ripper.”

“What?” Beverly came over and took the letter he held out to her, carefully holding it in her gloved hands as she stared down at the parchment with just as much disbelief on her face, as was present in her voice. 

“Yup that what it says.” She confirmed, handing it off to Jack. Will moved in towards the body, kneeling down to peer at it. There was no reason to empathize, they knew who the killer was, the evidence of his identity in every slice of flesh that decorated the body before them. The cuts we’re methodical and precise, the display, a mockery of the victim.

“He took the meat from his stomach… and then fashioned it into little flowers.” he muttered, staring at the bacon roses, a fluid warmth spreading through his face and a sickness swirling in his gut. 

“If this is the Ripper he’ll kill again, won’t he?” Jack asked, no one in particular, though he turned to face Will, an intense looked settling on his hardened features. There was a prickle of worry there, perhaps he was reflecting on the death of his intern. 

Or Perhaps, he felt like the Ripper was poking at him, threatening him by demonstrating he knew of Will. What ever Jack’s reasons we’re for being worried, Will’s we’re more simple. This serial killer knew who he was, which in of itself wasn’t very surprising, Tattlecrime had his name on copy/paste, the problem was, the Ripper had specifically singled Will out, and now, he was afraid for his safety. 

Nervously he slid his glasses off his face, and puffed air into his hands, arming his cool cheeks, his breath coiling and billowing into the air in front of him. A warbler sang and the sun finally crested fully, casting warm light upon the cold dead body. 

/.\

“How are you Will?” Hannibal sat down in the warm ash hued leather chair, perching one leg over the opposing knee, hands folded neatly into his lap. His eyes glinted in the dim light, his jaw clenched to hide a rogue smile from splitting his lips. He had been very much looking forward to tonight’s conversation.

“Exposed.” Will was standing over by the bronze stag, staring down at it in a self-involved slump. He seemed willing to talk, like he had something to get off his mind, but was hesitant to do so. Perhaps, Hannibal concluded, that Will was simply flustered and needed a gentle push. 

“Jack called, he told me you went to a crime scene today. He said it was the Chesapeake Ripper and that your name was written on a letter he left.” There he thought, that would get the ball rolling. He waited patiently, observing Will as he turned and came to sit opposite him, leaned forwards in the seat, elbows on his knees, hands pressed to one another out in front of him, a look of illness spread across his tired face.

“He left me flowers made of a man’s stomach. Little Bacon Roses.” He grimaced, glancing up at Hannibal, he looked strained, which was not the response he was expecting. His hazel eyes narrowed in on Will as he cleared his throat, looking over at the windows.

“Why would he do that?” His eyes slide in his skull to look briefly at Will, to catch him raise his hands, tenting them over his mouth as he shook his head. His pretty little mongoose hard at work, trying to find the motivation. 

“I don’t know. Sort of seemed like he was trying to goad Jack.” Hannibal frowned, no, that was most certainly not what he had been trying to accomplish. He couldn’t just come out and correct Will though, he’d end up giving himself away. Still he felt a bitter twitch spread over his lips as he glared out the window.

“I’m sure we will find out soon enough, what his motive was.”

 

**Part 2**

**I Want To Crawl Inside Your Head  
[But I’m Already There]**

 

The grand theater was, for the most part, dark. Rows upon rows of empty seats, wrapped in warm burgundy fabric, cast into seeping blackness as the shadows crept over their forms. The darkness was interrupted though, by a single golden spotlight hanging in the middle of the stage, the room hummed with the sweet tremor of cellos, perhaps Boccherini.

Will took the scalpel in his hand, carefully popping each eye out, casting darkness forever over the dead man’s world, severing the optic nerve. He deposited them into a freezer baggie for disposal at a later time. 

Next he raised the jewelers hammer, tipping back the man’s head, so the single light above him, shone down, lighting his workspace. Then, with careful, light taps, Will cracked the bone behind the eye sockets, working his way through, always conscious of the depth. Then he carefully plucked the broken sharps of stark white matter out, till he came to reveal a mass of wrinkled grey, exposing the man’s brain through his eye sockets.

He was careful to not interrupt the blood that had dripped out of the man’s head, down his cheek, the deep red like blackened tears. Then finally, he placed the folded white parchment in the man’s hands and stepped back to admire his work. 

“Will?” He jolted from his trance and grimaced at the body before him, stripped naked and perched upon the grand chair, it’s rich deep blue velvet and mahogany curled wooden frame a stark contrast to the blood and cold pale skin.

Where there should have been eyes and beneath that bone, there was instead the telltale folds of the man’s brain. The empty eyes seemed to see through his very soul. Below that mutilation, the man’s chest was cracked open. Nothing had been taken, a fact which surprised Will the most. Instead his heart and lungs we’re on full display for him to see. On his lap stood a folded piece of heavy parchment to match that from the last crime scene.

Will stepped forwards and selected the paper with blue gloved hands, pausing to stare down at the heavy card stock, hesitant, before he opened it up, peering at the poem that was laid out there, dark spider like coils of letters drizzled over the stark white.

“I think, he wants to get your attention…” Mutter Jack, his voice tinged with worry as he stepped away from Will and towards the body, leaning down to inspect it’s cold dead face, cheeks stained with a river of black tears.

“He’s got it…” mutter Will as he reviewed the words again;

_Dear William,_  
I have a motion much imports your good;  
Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline,  
Thoughts of mine are yours and what are yours are mine.  
So, bring us to our palace; where we'll show  
What hides behind closed eyes; these things you know.  
And as I cavort, inside your head.  
Thus true nature, shadows; fed.  
You can see into me; in your mind, this is true  
The time has come, for me to see into you. 

/.\

Will sat perched upon one of the beautiful chairs, before the long wooden dinner table. Sweet scents wafting through the air as Hannibal carried in several dishes, perching the plates upon his arms gracefully.

He carefully set out dinner before them. A light salad with cuts of turnip and carrots amongst other vegetables, in a mild vinaigrette. Following that, the appetizer, sweet breads and finally for dinner he’d prepared some heart. As he poured the thick red featured wine into a glinting glass he peered curiously at Will who was staring blankly down at the food.

“How was your day Will?” He purred, setting himself down across from his friend, whisking the fabric napkin, a deep emerald green that envied dark grass on a stormy summer day, across his lap, selecting his cutlery as Will did.

He watched him take a slice of the heart, a pleased look infesting his face as Will hummed at the taste, before he himself set about consuming the flesh. It was always so pleasant to watch someone enjoy the cooking.

“We found another Ripper victim.” He muttered quietly, setting aside his fork to sip harshly at the wine, not bothering to take in the scent, though it was expected; he never did. Hannibal decided to make up for the crass action by breathing in the scent wafting from his own glass, before slipping some of the blood colored liquid down his throat, peering at Will. 

“I think… the Ripper’s courting me.” Will had set the glass aside, as well as his cutlery, and now stared blankly at the food, as though, if he looked hard enough and long enough, the sweet breads would re-arrange themselves to provide a clue to the questions that ailed his mind.

“Oh? Why would you think that?” Hannibal was careful to mask the thrill in his voice, he was ever so pleased that Will had finally gotten it. He’d been re-writing that poem for days, trying to get it just right, since his kill last week went over so poorly, he was happy to see Will had finally gotten his message.

“He left me a poem. It was unnerving…” Will scolded the sweetbreads as he lifted up his fork and knife once more, taking another bite of the heart, a look spreading across his features that was half grimace, half insanity. Like he was considering crying out in frustration. 

“Even serial killers have been known to fall in love, perhaps you are projecting your uneasiness when faced with social interaction upon the situation?” Hannibal suggested, his heart sinking in his chest. He didn’t want to make Will afraid… that wasn’t his intention.

Will just shook his head, pressing his hand to his face in an act of defeat. “All I can think about is whether or not Jack’s going to be finding my body next. A serial killer is targeting me, in this line of work that rarely has an optimistic end.” His voice was cracked and low, it sounded broken by reality and aged by internal struggle.

Hannibal’s gut clenched as a sad feeling seized him, self disappointment, or perhaps self-loathing at his own incompetence to properly portray his message. For crying out loud, Will Graham empathized with murderers! Yet Hannibal had failed twice now to transmit his message of affection! 

The thought that he might be off his game caused a twitch to seize his lips for a brief moment and he set aside his cutlery, having been put off the food as he struggled to find what to say. 

Dinner ended rather quickly, Hannibal was feeling far too depressed to eat now and Will seemed trapped his own mind, subject to the torment of his thoughts and the whispers of killers. So Hannibal cleared the table and found himself standing in the kitchen, staring into his open fridge, the cold air washing over his face and suit clad body.

He wanted to apologize, but when you’re a psychiatrist, courting your client under your guise of Baltimore’s most wanted serial killer and psychopath, that doesn’t tend to leave much room for verbal or direct apologizes. So he removed a little steel domed dish from one of the shelves and set it upon the counter.

Inside sat a platter of small balls of dark chocolate cake, about a half cup in size each. He had been planning to serve these tomorrow evening at a dinner party preceding his favorite opera. He stood there staring at the little balls of chocolate he had spent so much time preparing.

For a moment he debated with himself. Will loved chocolate.

So he removed two, writing himself a note to find time later that night to gather the ingredients to replace them. Then he set each one upon a plate with a white center and deep blue edges, trimmed with silver.

Around each he lay tiny dollops of berry compote and adorned their tops with a dab of ice cream and a sesame tuille. He then carried them out, setting one in front of Will, and one for himself, topping up the object of his desire’s wine and water before settling himself down into his seat.

“Perhaps this will ease your nerves, at least for the moment.” He said gently, the most he could say verbally as way of apology for scaring the crap out of Will…

He watched him, with hope in his eyes that Will would accept the peace offering, observing as he pressed his fork into the cake. As the silver tines pieced the flesh, warm, rich, chocolate lava oozed out. A thick, rich, heavy, cloying scent wafting into the air.

As Will took the first bite, Hannibal swore he heard a soft little moan leave the man, as his eyes slipped shut and his tongue swiped a drip of chocolate from lips. It was positively mesmerizing, and he felt his heart seize when Will made, rare, eye contact with him, catching his intent stare.

“If the Ripper simply left me chocolate cake, I think i’d be less worried,” he laughed a soft, broken little laugh to himself as he cut another piece, resting it on his fork, considering it’s dark richness. “But then I suppose we’d be talking about a different person altogether. A person who doesn’t leave meat flowers and brains as gifts.”

Hannibal took a bite of his own desert, in order to occupy his mouth, to keep himself from suggesting to Will that even serial killers can appreciate things like fine dining.

When dinner had ended, Hannibal saw Will to the door, helping him into his coat, taking a brief moment, when Will’s back was turned to him, to lean down and let his mongooses’ scent waft into his nose, nearly melting. 

Then he opened the door and saw him out to the front step. 

“Don’t worry yourself too much over this Ripper, I'm sure you’ll be alright. Remember, my door is always open to friends.” Will smiled at him, thanked him, and went to his car, disappearing into the summer night.

Hannibal returned to his kitchen and set about replacing the deserts, all the while scolding himself for frightening Will. His next display would have to be of even greater design if he was going to successfully woo him. 

He put down the bowl he’d been mixing ingredients in and slumped back against the fridge, slowly sliding down to the floor in bitter defeat. It had taken him a week to perfect that last design, but he’d been working on it for months! Now what!?

“Maybe I should just write, ‘P.S I love you’ on the next letter.”

His lips quirked up into a delicate smile before he let out a hearty chortle, picking himself up off the floor and resuming his work, his mind orchestrating new ideas.

 

**Part 3**

**No Taste Sweeter Than That of Your Heart  
**

 

He’d had stranger evenings than this one, but this one was certainly trying for the top. Will stood in his living room, surrounded by his pack of strays with a beer in one hand, staring at the box on the kitchen table. 

He had come home from work to find it in a bag, hanging from the doorknob. So naturally he’d taken it inside. Now here he stood, wondering what it was and who is was from. The note had been so utterly unhelpful he’d almost cursed at it. A sheet of dark blue parchment with the printed words, “For Will” emblazoned in white ink. Nothing else. There was no name, no sender, nothing. 

He sighed and put down his beer, scraping a chair out from the table to perch upon as he began removing the silver wrapping paper. It glinted in the dim evening light, like the blade of a knife. He slipped the white ribbon from it’s rectangular body as well, taking a moment to call Winston over and put it around his neck with an amused little smile. The mutt wagged his tail happily, peering at his person with curiosity. 

When the box had been shed of it’s fancy silver wrappings and white bow, Will was left with a rectangular box as blue as the sea in the dead of night. He carefully lifted the lid off and set it aside. He took his beer and slumped back in the crappy chair, glancing down at Winston with a look of disbelief. 

Inside the box were rows of little chocolates, each one wrapped carefully in a bit of black paper. Hesitantly he picked one up, glancing at the card for the third time that night to confirm it was his name written there, and not someone elses. 

His lips twitched as he plucked the black paper off the small, heart shaped chocolate, and took a hesitant nip. The dark chocolate coated a delectable raspberry jelly interior that made his brain seem to melt out his ears. He loved chocolate...

As he nibbled on a second one he continued to wonder who may have sent them, perhaps it had been Alana… She seemed to have a habit of sneaking to his home, and there was no denying that she was interested in him. 

“Just not _compatible_ ,” he muttered through another bite of chocolate raspberry heaven, suppressing a little moan. Perhaps it was an apology… Or maybe she was saying ‘here’s some chocolate, I hope Jack’s not been a douche.’ Sighing, he placed the lid back over the gift and moved it to the top of the fridge, heaven forbid the dogs get it. He plucked the ribbon off Winston’s neck and took his pack to bed.

/.\

Will arrived at the scene early the next morning, having been woken up a couple ungodly hours earlier by Jack, telling him he was needed at crime scene. He’d been warned over the phone it seemed to be another Ripper case, but not even that prepared Will as he stepped from his vehicle and crossed into the bar, on the outskirts of Baltimore. 

It was a dingy place, with creeping dust and clawing cobwebs, and a smell of old wood and alcohol. It didn’t take long to locate the source of the other smell in the room. He made his way quietly to Jack, feeling his heart sinking the closer he got.

There, on the far wall was a naked body of a man pinned to the old barn wood by five arrows, one through each hand, each thigh and one through the heart, which had been cut out of the man’s chest before being pierced.

Below his dangling, lifeless feet, now swelling with blood as decay began to set in, was a small wooden stand, upon it, a heart shaped box, bearing a stark white letter.

Will picked his way over, snapping it up, and flipping it open to find exactly what he expected to find. Long elegant letters, curling and swirling in dark black ink, “For Will Graham, With Love, The Ripper.” He shoved the note at Jack.

“The bar owner?” He stared at the box, nervousness prickling at his heart as Beverly stepped towards him in her inappropriate heels, shaking her head. He arms folded across a red blouse that puffed and billowed like fire.

“He didn’t see anything, he has a needle mark on his neck, seems our killer sedated him before doing this. No cameras either.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Will sighed, glancing around the bar, which probably hadn’t seen decent money in a long while. His eyes found the box again, it was obviously untouched, and that didn’t suit him, he needed to see what was inside.

“Have we opened this yet?” He asked, though the answer was completely and utterly obvious. Jack affirmed for him that it had not been touched, so he donned his crime scene gloves and knelt down in front of the box, trying to avoid the puddle of blood that had formed upon the wooden floorboards to join the dust. 

He carefully removed the lid and felt his heart drop out of his body as he stared at the little bundles of black wrapping paper. He removed one and found inside a small, heart shaped dark chocolate. With sweat forming on his brow he snapped it open and watched the blood red jelly swell at the wound. 

“This needs to be tested.” He stated, bagging it and handing it off to Jimmy as he walked by. Will stared blankly down at the box. He was so absorbed in fear that he didn’t sense Jack come up behind him, and nearly leapt out of his skin and into the body when his voice trickled into his ear.

“Are you ok Will?”

/.\

It had taken three hours, but now here they were, standing in the lab with Will’s box of anonymous chocolates sitting next to Will’s box of Ripper murder chocolates. The body had also been taken down, and was on a gurney nearby, while Beverly inspected it. 

“Why did you eat the chocolates Will?” Jack clawed, for the third time since the gathering of the Science Team had commenced. His eyes slipped shut as he tried not to snap, he’d already done that and it had become a yelling match between him and Jack with Beverly standing worriedly in the corner and Jimmy excusing himself from the room briskly.

“I didn’t know who they we’re from… I assumed they we’re safe. If the Ripper wanted to kill me, don’t you think he would have done it by now Jack?” He snipped, rubbing his hand over his face, perhaps trying to hide from Jack, maybe just exhausted by this point. 

“Well I have bad news and really bad news.” Zeller, came over to them, holding a piece of paper, blinking at Will and Jack as Beverly and Jimmy came round to hear the word. “Which one do you want first?”

Will threw his hand down to his side and stared at the two chocolate boxes. “The bad news.” How had he not been more careful? He’d spent the last month being courted by a murderer, yet he willingly ate the first box on anonymous chocolate to show up at his door. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

“Well the bad news is, the chocolate Will received at his home appears to be of the same, homemade recipe, as the chocolate we found at the Ripper murder. So it seems you did in fact eat a serial killer’s chocolates.” There was snark there, but Will missed it, because he was giving Zeller a look like he might kill him.

“How is that the better news?” Beverly spoke up for him, now it was her turn to stare at the death chocolate. Zeller frowned and glanced down at the paper he was holding, before handing it to Jack.

“The very bad news is, we found human DNA in the chocolate. More specifically the filling. Seems the gelatin was made of human remains. Which means-”

“That I ate human DNA.” Will didn’t feel so hot as his stomach began to flop around inside his gut, clenching and wriggling as he considered vomiting right then an there. Instead he excused himself and did it politely in the bathroom. 

His head felt like it was screaming. He could hear that god-damn voice inside his mind, lulling him, cooing to him, proclaiming his love. He threw down some aspirin and doused his face in water, trying to calm his nerves. He just ended up vomiting in the sink.

/.\

Hannibal glanced curiously at the door before checking his watch. It was noon, and he had no patients booked for this time. In fact he had planned to work on one of his drawings. However, it could wait.

He picked himself up from the distressed brown leather chair and made his way to the door, donning his jacket as he crossed the room, doing up the buttons as he opened the door and greeted, none other than the object of his affection. 

“Hello Will. Please come in.” Will didn’t look alright. His face was pale, a sweat had formed on his brow. Hannibal could pick up the cloying scent of chocolate on him and couldn’t help the curl of his lips into a brief smile as he pictured his mongoose enjoying the treat Hannibal had left for him the day before. 

Surprisingly, Will didn’t look pleased.

“I’m sorry I don’t have an appointment.” He wrung his hand through his hair and straightened his glasses as he paced about the room, like a frightened animal, scared of standing still for too long, less he be snapped up in the jaws of some great predator.

“That’s alright Will, I told you, my doors are always open to _friends_. What has brought you to my door today?” Doctor Lecter picked his way to one of the grey leather chairs and sat down, watching Will’s skin crawl and twitch as he paced.

Finally he came to sit before of Hannibal, a look of determination in his eyes that said he was going to tell Hannibal everything in, hopefully, one swift breath and that would be the end of his humiliation.

“Last night I received an anonymous parcel, it was left on my door, it was addressed to me. So I opened it and it was chocolate and I thought perhaps it was from Alana,” Hannibal frowned ever so slightly, “but then this morning Jack called me to Baltimore, to another Ripper murder, and at the crime scene, were the same damn chocolates. We ran some tests and the chocolate I received, that I _ate_ , were the same as those at the crime scene, and what’s worse, they contained human DNA.” Will ended with his face in his hands, fingers knitting through his hair as he shook his head.

Hannibal grimaced. No, Will was supposed to associate the pleasure of enjoying the chocolate treat with the Ripper, not the other way around. “I see. It was out of your control Will, you must not blame yourself.”

“I ate a human. I should have known. It was stupid. Of course they we’re from _him_.” Will shook his head, dropping his hands to his lap. To Hannibal, he seemed a bit broken, and it was his job to fix this damn mess. 

Hannibal stood up and crossed the distance between them, kneeling down in front of Will, and looking at him softly, presenting a face of friendship and support to his poor tormented mongoose. 

“It’s alright Will. You said the DNA was found in the chocolate?”

“In the filling.”

“I wouldn’t worry yourself so much William. The amount of human DNA present was, I would suspect exceptionally low. Scientists argue there are trace amounts of human DNA in most fast foods. You’ve probably consumed more human remains in a burger than you did in the chocolate you ate.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” A look of horror spread over Will’s face as he stared at Hannibal, looking positively disheveled, and possibly now more horrified than when he’d arrived. Crap.

“Yes.” he said solemnly, shrugging his shoulders, trying to think of another way to ease Will’s tender mind. “Do not worry about it Will.” He placed his hand on Will’s shoulder for a moment, basking in the warm heat that crept into his hand. Will wasn’t wearing that god awful aftershave, thus the cloying scent of chocolate was mingling with Will’s own natural scent, and of course the sweetness of the encephalitis. It was positively enduring. 

For a moment, Hannibal fancied pinning Will to the grey leather seat and ripping his clothes off. He settled for getting up and sitting across from the man once more, folding a leg over the other. “Despite the nature of the gift, it would seem the Ripper is even more interested in you now than he was prior.” Truer words were never said.

“It would seem that way,” muttered Will, who leaned back now in the chair, staring miserably at the floor between them, not looking much more at ease, but at the same time, he hadn’t run screaming from the room yet, or lost time.

“I can hear him in my head, but I can’t figure out what he’s saying. Like a thick curtain has been pulled between us.” Will continued to burn a hole into the hardwood with his gaze, hands on the arms of the chair, eyes unseeing as he dove into his mind.

“Perhaps it’s more simple than it seems?” Hannibal straightened one of his cufflinks, glancing idly at Will who was still unmoving. “Perhaps, he simply desires your attention.”

“Flirting through dead bodies is hardly a simple matter.” Will shook his head, closing his eyes, hiding from the world for a moment. A beneficial action, as Will failed to see Hannibal’s mouth drop in a frown as he flicked his eyes away from Will, gazing broken heartily out the window. 

After Will had calmed down, Hannibal walked him to the door, pausing there for a moment. “I’d like to invite you to my home for dinner tomorrow night Will.” He stated it, instead of asking. He wanted Will to come over for dinner, less he try to apologize to him once again. 

Will nodded, said he’d be there, Jack permitting, and was gone down the hallway, leaving Hannibal to sit alone in his office, drowning in a glass of wine, trying to mask the dull ache of his breaking heart. What would it take to demonstrate to Will his undying love? 

 

**Part 4**

**Come Dine With Me  
[You Should Be Warned, The Food Is People]**

 

Life had been seriously lacking as of late. If not for Hannibal’s sane company, Will was sure he would have gone off the deep-end into paranoia. Perhaps he would have become a shut in, living in his little house, with his dogs, having Alana and Jack bring him food. Of course that’s not what had ended up happening, but despite his non-hermit status, Will still felt a cloying sense of nervousness every time he arrived at a crime scene.

It had been nearly two weeks since the last Ripper Flirtation of Death, yet the absence didn’t ease Will’s mind as it should have. He should have just been happy. They had had three Ripper deaths, the man with the roses, the man with the poem and the chocolates, and the Ripper had, in the past, always killed in threes. So, theoretically speaking, that should have been the end of it.

Yet Will could not shake the feeling that it wasn’t, that there was perhaps one more final crime being prepared for him right now by the delicate, insane hands of the madman who thought roses made of human stomach and chocolates make of bone and fat we’re appropriate gifts for someone. So, Will became hesitant to answer calls from Jack, always fearing to hear those words, “It’s the Ripper” but for two weeks, there was nothing but silence.

In that time he had been invited to dinner by his psychiatrist, as well as had conversations with Hannibal regarding his ever festering fear that the Ripper wasn’t done with him. He told Hannibal how he lay awake at night, listening to the house, dreading to hear the ticking of the lock being picked, or the heavy slide of a window being opened. How he was desperately afraid the Ripper was coming for him, to make his last proclamation of love. 

Hannibal had calmed him down however, had reasoned with soft, gentle words that if the Ripper wanted Will dead, he would have done it already. There was something about those hazel eyes and curling accent that calmed his mind and shooed away all the evil that hid there. He found the man relaxing, and pleasant to be in the company of.

Had he asked, and Will was glad he never did, he would have found it hard not to admit a certain fondness that he had developed for Hannibal. What a hay-day Freud would have with him, going mad, being flirted with by a serial killer and attracted to your shrink? My, my Will Graham.

So he pushed the thoughts from his mind, or as best he could, it was difficult. He would glance up into those soft honey colored eyes and see no judgement there, only curiosity and kindness. It had been such a long time since someone had looked at Will without judgment or expectation. 

For a couple days, he thought maybe everything had gone back to normal, that the Ripper had fallen silent once more and he could continue on with his life, a small part of his mind fluttered, perhaps he could even deepen his relationship with Hannibal.

Then of course, like all good things, it went to hell.

/.\

It was late in the evening, 8:30 pm, Friday when he arrived outside of the large building, the sand stone a dull shade of gold in the light of the street lamps. Inside, the halls were warm and a soft trickle of classical music crept out from under the door to Hannibal’s office. When Will rapped his knuckles against the wood, he expected to be greeted in the same way as always. Hannibal would open the door, say his name expectantly and then invite him in with a gesture of his arm.

Tonight he did not. When Hannibal opened the door he had an odd look about him, half way between puzzled and concerned. In his hand he held a dark red envelope, limply at his side, his eyes scanning him for a moment before he invited him in.

“Please come in.”

“Has something happened?” Will stared at the envelope still slipped between the long fingers of his therapist, his heart thrumming in his ears, he could feel it beat beneath his eyes and in his throat. Hannibal raised the envelope then and glanced at it, before holding it out to Will, who took it slowly, cautiously like a worried dog.

“I found it under the door when I got in. I was debating calling Jack or waiting for you to simply arrive.” Will stared quietly down at the soft red paper, his name twirling in gold ink. He then tore it open carefully and pulled out the card. 

“What does it say? Will?” Hannibal’s voice was hushed and there was an edge of concern there, Will saw it in his eyes when he glanced up from the parchment and nodded meekly. His psychiatrist looked gaunt for a moment, glancing around the room and shifting with discomfort before looking back at Will with a heavy gaze.

“To my dear Will, “ next was an address to a restaurant he knew on the edge of Baltimore. He drove past it every day on his way home to Wolftrap, “9:30 pm. It’s an invitation…” He scowled at the card, handing it to Hannibal who peered at it with that grave look on his face.

“I’ll call Jack, have him meet us there.” Will pulled his cellphone from his pocket and stabbed in Jack’s number, nibbling on his bottom lip while flipping the invitation over and over in his hand, glancing nervously at Hannibal who stood there, quietly watching him with a look of worry on his face that seemed to age him.

When he finished with Jack he hung up and grabbed his coat and the card. Hannibal followed him, pulling on his grey tweed coat over his bespoken suit, donning his leather gloves and snatching the keys to the office door from his pocket. Will stared at him blankly. “I will come with you.”

“N-no. I mean, i’ve already dragged you into this. He left the card at _your_ door. He knows about you. Please I don’t want to endanger you further.” Will stood in the door way, his head shaking as he thought about everything that could go wrong. What if the Ripper intended to kill him? What if Hannibal got injured, or worse, was killed? He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t risk his only friend… this wonderful man’s life.

“You are my friend Will, and I am coming with you.”

/.\

The restaurant was silent, a ghost in the night, void of noise and light when Will and Hannibal arrived. The building seems like an empty husk of a thing, for no sounds creaked from it, and the windows we’re dark in the evening shadows. 

Will drew his gun, and crept quietly up the steps towards the door, Hannibal walking quietly behind him, tracking him as they moved towards the building. Hannibal thought it quiet amusing, seeing his little mongoose with his hackles all turned up, preparing himself for a fight. He would get none. For Hannibal had already done his work, Will would find no Ripper inside, instead he would find Hannibal’s next gift.

Will tried the door and found it unlocked, the creak of the hinges hanging in the silence as they glanced at one another. Cautiously Will stepped inside. Hannibal paused and looked back over his shoulder into the dark swirling evening, Jack and the police had yet to arrive, so he followed his companion into the cryptic building.

Will moved like a predator, scanning the room for life. It was Hannibal who put things in motion. There was a click and the room lit up, Will spun to look at him, to which he responded with a grimace, moving off the wall where he had leaned _accidentally_ , causing the lights to flick on. He stared beyond Will then, letting his eyes creep a bit wider, hoping to portray mild surprise.

It worked, for Will forgot about Hannibal and spun to look at the scene before them. It was a splendid affair, at least in Hannibal’s eyes. The beautiful table sat in the middle of the room, at each end waited an empty chair, in-between, the body was propped up. 

Hannibal felt he’d done a splendid job, more splendid now with Will to witness it. He moved cautiously alongside his mongoose towards the scene, burying his pride deep in his gut to hid it from Will’s gaze. He had taken the meat from the man and cooked it in the kitchen here, then re-arranged it’s contents upon the table, letting organs spill from their former vessel out of his chest and upon silver plates. 

Smoked lungs wrapped their wings around the prepared heart, coiled amongst sausage and kidneys. He’d garnished the meal with his meat roses, and flashes of peacock feathers and bird skulls. It was possibly one of the best works he’d ever done. Their waiter sat in his black suit, unbuttoned so as to allow the meat to spill from his body, his head hung slack and dead.

The table was was also fitted with fine silver cutlery, sleek crystal glasses and porcelain plates with lines of blue and gold racing about the edge. He stole a glance at Will, who had wandered over to his side of the table, glaring down at the red envelope Hannibal had left there for him.

He looked up at him then and after an exchanged glance, Hannibal nodded meekly and Will plucked the envelope up, tearing it open, dropping his hand to his side as he stared blankly at the scene before him with a look Hannibal couldn’t quiet read.

“Thank you for taking up my offer and coming to dinner, my dear Will.”

Hannibal moved forwards, staring down at the meal before them. His eyes twitched over to Will, standing there, doing the same, only with a slightly lost look in his eye. It would take nothing to snatch him up into his arms then. Perhaps Will would even give into his embrace, would see it as comforting. Then he could breath in that scent of fear and sickness, bath in it. He would push Will down onto the table and take him right there, devouring him amongst his work. It would be glorious.

“Will! Doctor Lecter, I didn’t expect you to be here.” Jack came billowed into the room and Hannibal let a soft sigh slip from his breath as he looked away from the table to the man standing before them, shotgun in hand at the ready for the invisible killer standing right before him, cursing him for interrupting his fantasies. 

“The Ripper’s not here Jack…” Will’s shoulder’s fell in defeat as he pulled himself away from his place at the table and moved to the man standing in the door, as FBI and police swarmed the room. He handed the red envelope off to Jack and grimaced back at the scene. 

“This is getting ridiculous.” Beverly had glanced over Jack’s shoulder at the letter and was now holding Will in a concerned gaze. “He’s not leaving you alone.”

“Will can handle himself.” Muttered Jack, moving towards the scene, leaving Will standing there, looking quietly around the room. Hannibal stepped aside as Jack moved past him to the table, seemingly not too concerned today with Will’s mental health. It was an attitude that both angered yet eased Hannibal.

“Are you alright?” Beverly ducked her head to try to catch Will’s eyes, a look of friendly concern in her own. She seemed about a second away from touching Will. Hannibal stood nearby, watching. He didn’t want her to touch Will. He was Hannibal’s, not hers… Even if he did keep missing the point of his presents. 

“How many more people is he going to kill because of me?” Will had begun to stare at the ground now, a look of sadness and frustration spreading over his face. Beverly ducked her head again, this time she reached out, touching his shoulder gently, as though she were comforting a small child. Hannibal felt a twitch cross his lips as he began to approach them, jealousy tugging at his mind.

“Hey. You can’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault.” She dropped her hand away ad looked up to meet Hannibal’s gaze as he entered their space. Will had made a soft hum noise but remained staring defeatedly at the ground.

“Will, let me drive you home.” He offered softly, the man just nodded, his brown hair bobbing quickly as he smiled brokenly at Beverly and made his way to the door, Hannibal hot on his heels, eager to remove him from her company and redirect his attention to the important matters at hand. 

 

**Part 5**

**Never Say Sorry, To a Serial Killer**

 

The drive back to his office was quiet, Will simply sat, defeated in the passenger seat, watching the world rolled by in dark, inky shadows. When they pulled up outside the building, Will removed himself from the car and methodically followed him inside.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Hannibal offered, removing his coat and taking Will’s to hang up, moving quietly to the fireplace, where he struck up a match on one of the logs and left the flame to grow and consume the wood. 

Will didn’t follow him, instead he moved around the room, like a fly, never staying in one spot for too long. “I think I could use more than one.” He muttered softly. Hannibal nodded, smiling to himself as he left the room to fetch them two glasses and a bottle of wine. 

Will may not have appreciated his last effort, but he was more than happy to provide him with alcohol and a conversation. The ruby red liquid filled the glass like a goblet of blood, which Hannibal gifted into Will’s hands, before pouring his own, watching his little mongoose prowl the room.

“I thought he had finished… Evidently not. How many more people will die?” Will paused to take a chug of the wine, Hannibal cringed slightly at how completely Will ignored the art of the drink. Still, he couldn't help it when his mind started to wander slightly, as he imagined the taste of Will’s mouth, now tinged with the scent of the wine.

“When will he simply decide to kill me? Or worse… What if he finds me… and just takes what ever it is he’s trying to get from me? What if he hurts you next?” There was an ache of fear in Will’s voice. There was defiance also, almost like resolve, as though he we’re making up his mind, in that moment that if it came to that, he would defend himself and Hannibal, ironically, to the death. It made Hannibal’s skin crawl with want. He loved seeing Will alive, and not afraid, consumed by his own predatory mind. 

“I don’t think he will kill you, nor do I think he has any desire to harm you.”

“Because he would have done it already.” Will shook his head, closing his eyes. 

Hannibal placed his glass down upon his desk and moved across the room, Will was staring out of the window now, into the clawing, creeping darkness of the night. He stood behind him, so close his senses were bathed in Will’s scent.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” Will said quietly, staring out into the lone darkness that seemed to be edging at the corners of the glass, trying desperately to seep in and crawl into poor Will’s mind. Hannibal felt himself wanting to smile. If only dear sweet Will knew just how ironic his words were.

“You didn’t drag me into anything Will. You are my friend, I am happy to be of any help to you. I want to protect you.” He ended softly, his eyes raking over Will’s nape, peeking just below his brown hair, just above his awful plaid shirt. He wanted to lean forward and taste his skin…

Sometimes, action is difficult, even when you’re a serial killer. Hannibal could feel movement clawing it’s way through his brain, which screamed at him to just do it, to make a move. Will _needed_ him right now, all he had to do was claim that desire.

He lifted his hand carefully and set it on Will’s shoulder, gently squeezing the muscle that lay there beneath the cotton shirt. He felt a twitch race through Will then, could nearly hear his heart beat quicken. Then Will was turning to look at him and was stepped into his space, his eyes burning and alive. Hannibal took his wine glass from him and set it aside, upon a nearby stand. Then with his hands free, he wrapped them around Will’s body as the man completely moved towards him, filling the space between them, pressing their bodies together.

Hannibal rested his cheek against Will’s head, breathing in his scent, his arms encircling the man’s body. It was quiet, and soft, and then, as suddenly as it had started, it was no longer innocent. It was, not to Hannibal’s surprise, Will who made the first advance, leaning up, he kissed Hannibal, his teeth biting at his lower lip aggressively until he yielded, letting his mouth go slightly slack, only to be invaded by a needy tongue.

A shiver raced down Hannibal’s back. He felt a hand crawl it’s way to his jacket, absentmindedly, much to Hannibal’s mild horror, unbuttoning it. He decided to help Will first, in a near desperate attempt to protect his suit, freeing himself of his vest and jacket quickly before he slid his hands up, underneath the soft touch of the cotton shirt Will wore, his hands heavy and sure on his warm skin as he slid them over Will’s abdomen, then his ribcage, trailing his thumbs over his nipples before he slid his hands around to Will’s back.

He was a bit unsure of when exactly they had moved away from the window, but he felt the bump of the therapy couch against his calf and sat down, Will adamantly following him before climbing him like a tree, settling on his lap, knees pushed into the soft emerald fabric as he continued to feverishly maul Hannibal’s mouth with teeth and tongue, his hands now working to get off his therapist’s shirt. 

Hannibal couldn’t stop smiling into the kiss as he began carefully, or as careful as one can with Will Graham kissing them, unbuttoning the plaid shirt before tossing it off into the corner somewhere, ducking his head away from Will’s desperate kisses to bite at the skin of his exposed neck.

Will tasted so alive, his skin soft and pliable beneath his teeth and tongue as he lavished the pale flesh with a bruise, claiming him desperately as his. Only his. No one else’s. When the skin was rushing with blood beneath his lips and Will was moaning against his own neck, he released the flesh and stole the time to scratch his nails down Will’s ribs, watching the skin go red and angry beneath the pressure.

Will arched his back and caught his eye. There was so much fire there. Then Will was moving as the aggressor once more, his hands diving down between them as he claimed Hannibal’s lips in another viscous kiss. He could barely stop moaning as he felt those desperate hands unbuckling his pants, fingers skimming over his growing erection. 

Will then got off of him and began removing his pants, giving Hannibal enough time to push his slacks onto the floor and watch with mild surprise as Will shoved his jeans and briefs off in one solid movement, exposing his erection to the man before him without reserve.

Then Will was on him again, his cock hard and hot against Hannibal’s gut, branding him like an iron of lust. He wrapped his arm around Will and pulled them down, adjusting himself to lay upon the couch properly, his back propped up beneath the green and black pillows.

It didn’t take long for Will to work Hannibal’s boxers off. He wasn’t exposed for long though as Will slid down his body and he felt lips wrap around his heat with abandon. He may not have believed it was Will had he not had a perfect view of him.

It had been a long time since he’d had sex really, it wasn’t a top priority, the last time had been with a woman and it had been less than satisfactory. Until Will had come into his life he hadn’t even been aware he was possibly gay. However, it was confirmed in his mind now as he watched Will slide his cock in and out of his mouth, his hand pumping what he didn’t take, a trail of saliva moist on his hot skin.

He reached down and gently slipped his hand into that soft brown hair and those hungry eyes suddenly flicked up and looked at him, properly. It was the first time Will had ever held proper eye contact with him and it was intoxicating. He could feel the cold ice of that blue gaze seeming into his mind, burning it with frost. He was barely even aware he was was making soft moaning sounds now as Will began to deep throat him, slipping his cock down the tight passage of his oesophagus, his eyes burning into Hannibal’s.

He felt the twitch of orgasm crawling up his spine then, “Stop.” He had to gather all his self control to speak not only in English, but without stuttering. Will drew off of him slowly, an audible pop leaving his lips as the suction broke. Then he crawled back up Hannibal’s body, decidedly kissing him as his hands wandered the older man’s skin, his hips suddenly grinding forwards.

Hannibal felt Will’s own erection press against his own, a second grinding thrust found Will’s cock pushing against his ass. It sparked raw desire in him he hadn’t know to exist, yet he suddenly found the thought of Will dominating him fully a thing he highly desired. 

He slid his hands up those sharp hips and seized his ass, dragging him against his body again, moaning hard into the kiss Will’s had them locked in as he felt the hot, hard flesh press firmly against him. He didn’t care to go and see if he had lube somewhere, inside every sadist there’s a small masochist and right now Hannibal’s was screaming for Will’s cock. 

“My dear, sweet Will.” He growled breathily when the young man released his lips, Will was breathing roughly now against his neck, lapping up air and Hannibal’s scent. He took this moment of pause, to advance his agenda and he locked his legs behind Will’s, using his calves to draw his mongoose in, arching his back to press his ass needy against that hot, twitching cock.

He could feel a shaky breath on his ear and a soft mutter coming from the man in his arms. “Condoms… lube?” It sounded like a question but a rather badly phrased one that had Hannibal blinking for a moment in silence before shaking his head.

“It’s fine.” He growled reassuringly into Will’s ear, digging his nails into Will’s hip and squeezing his calves against him, pressing them more firmly together. If Will didn’t hurry up he was going to do it himself. His cock lay heavy across his hip now, the head moist and glistening, not from Will’s split, which had dried, but from a steady drip of pre-cum slipping from the slit, his body all too eager.

“Flip over.” Hannibal did as he was told without hesitation, unlocking his legs from behind Will and positioning himself upon his knees, presenting his ass with eager lust, his arms propping up his shoulders as he leaned his head against of the pillow, peering back at his sweet mongoose who was taking him in with a predatory gaze.

Then he was pressing forwards and it felt like he was on fire, his hole giving under the pressure of Will’s cock until he slipped inside. Hannibal moaned heavily, dropping his head against the pillow before he thrust back, impatient to be filled.

He felt Will’s forearms press against his hips as he leaned over him, biting at his back as he thrust in, filling and spreading Hannibal open, and it was marvelous. His cock twitched between his legs, spurting a heavy strip of pre-cum upon the emerald fabric as he felt the weight of Will’s cock settle against his prostate.

Will didn’t waste any time as he began thrusting into Hannibal with harsh, fast snaps of his hips, desperate to fuck him, his hand slipping below them to take his cock in his palm. He steadily stroked Hannibal to match his pace, releasing from his therapist several foreign sounds and a constant rhythm of moans.

He canted back eagerly to meet the harsh pounding of Will’s cock, desperate to take all of him into his body with every thrust. He felt pleasure boiling in his gut as Will continued to pound into him mercilessly, every now and then moaning Hannibal’s name into his ear, the single most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Far too quickly he felt Will’s thrusts become erratic, his hand pumping Hannibal hard before he let go and instead seized his hip harshly.

Will then gave one final hard thrust before pausing, pressing in as deep as he could, settling his heavy balls against Hannibal’s, his thick cock filling him up. He moaned heavily in Hannibal’s ear and he couldn't help but groan out beneath him as he felt Will’s cock twitch inside of his body several times, spurting long lashes of thick white cum, seeding him.

Will remained there for a moment before he began thrusting gently, then he pulled out, rather suddenly, and rolled his pliable therapist over onto his back. Hannibal stared dazed up at Will, lust still burning in his mind as his cock twitched and ached for touch. Will’s hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed red and his cock still hard, the head licked in creamy cum. 

He barely had time to be surprised as Will climbed onto his lap and then was suddenly sinking down onto his hot, hard cock. His cried out, arching his hips, evidently sinking his erection faster into Will, as pleasure erupted through his body. Will’s face was screwed up a bit in pain but he only took a short moment once he’d settled Hannibal inside of him, Will’s own cock twitching and weakly spurting a thick line of cum onto Hannibal’s hip.

Then he began lifting himself up off Hannibal, his cock slipping out of his tight, excruciatingly hot body till only the swollen tender glands we’re still inside, then the young man slammed himself back down, setting his round ass into the cup of Hannibal’s lap. Hannibal cried out and took Will’s hips in his hands, sliding his back up the pillows to gain a better angle and began guiding his mongooses hips up and down his cock at a feverish pace.

He barely lasted five minutes before he pulled Will down hard into his lap, wrapping his arms around him and smashing their lips together as his cock pulsed inside Will’s hot body, splattering thick strips of cum inside him, marking him. 

As the kiss ended and the adrenaline began to die off Will leaned forwards, collapsing against Hannibal’s chest fully. He felt his softening cock slip with a heavy wet sound from Will’s ass, soon after he also felt the hot drips of his cum on his skin and a tired little groan left his throat, burying it’s way into Will’s damp hair as he held him there, close to his body.

“You should replace this couch.” Muttered Will in his ear after some time had passed. He had his head buried in the crook of Hannibal’s neck now. Neither of them had apologized for what had happened. What was there to apologize for? Will could have apologized for jumping Hannibal, but then it was been Hannibal’s idea after all.

“Technically, it’s a chaise lounge…” he chuckled softly in that soft brown hair, his eyes slipping shut as he breathed in this moment. This beautiful, wonderful moment. 

In the end, the Ripper may not have gotten Will, but Hannibal sure had, and that was fine by him. 

The heat between them had begun to dissipate, cooling their warm skin. His was becoming aware now of the moistness clinging to him, yet found himself unable to pull out of this warm, comforting embrace he held his mongoose in. As exhaustion began to slip in behind his eyes he pressed his lips gently to the young man’s ear.

“P.S, I think I may love you Will Graham.” 

 


End file.
